


Lovesick

by wierdrocks



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Complete, Crushes, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonlethal hanahaki, POV Third Person Limited, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wierdrocks/pseuds/wierdrocks
Summary: Ryan gets hanahaki the way some people get seasonal allergies; every few weeks it's another type of flower crowding his lungs. He doesn't see the problem with falling in love so easily, not really. It's not like anything has to come of it, right? Not like he would want... anything more. Right? This is fine....My friends and I watch all of the HSM movies in quarantine and promised we'd all write fanfic for each other.
Relationships: Chad Danforth/Ryan Evans, Troy Bolton/Gabriella Montez, one-sided Sharpay Evans/Gabriella Montez, one-sided Sharpay Evans/Zeke Baylor
Comments: 27
Kudos: 456





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WingedWolf121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedWolf121/gifts), [quirkless_loser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkless_loser/gifts).



It's especially bad after winter break. The halls of East High are positively littered with petals and leaves—the occasional blossom and stem. It's a combination of separation and people longing for people they're not seeing and the infernal romantic nature of the new year. New Year's kisses, everyone else making promises to each other, resolutions to not fall in love. There's an entire assembly—the way there is every year—on the ups and downs of hanahaki. 

_Yes this normal._  
_No it isn't deadly, that's a myth._  
_Please stop making dramatic confessions in the hallways it's disruptive._

Ryan gets flowers in his throat the way stone people get seasonal allergies. Always a different flower, of course, and never once solved with the doctor-recommended dramatic confession. For now, he resolves to stay as far in the closet as his wardrobe will allow—which means he gets used to coughing up handfuls of petals, tossing them into the science club’s compost bins and doing extra breathing exercises to deal with the constraints on his lungs. Fall semester it's peonies for Michael Wheeler in his biology lab, then irises for Frankie Gomez in English, a few days of honeysuckle for a substitute math teacher. Winter, it's purple hyacinth for Zeke on the basketball team; it’s the perfect flower for him—earnest and kind… and coughing up Amaryllis petals for Sharpay. It's just a little bit infuriating. 

Sharpay has never had hanahaki. She chases after Troy because he's a prize for her to obtain, but she doesn't actually feel that unrequited ache that accompanies so many unfulfilled crushes. It's an act for her. Getting Troy is just another thing to check off on her list of things that would make a perfect life. And then second semester starts. And Sharpay meets Gabriella Montez. And hacks soft pink petals into the crook of her elbow. Sharpay insists that they're for Troy, but Ryan's had enough experience—and spent enough time on floriography websites—to seriously doubt that Tory Bolton is a sweet briar rose. 

Gabriella on the other hand, who's been bounced from home to home for her whole life, who just wants to sink into the background and yet is constantly being pulled into the spotlight? Simplicity and woundedness seem like a good fit. Ryan tries not to smirk while his sister waxes philosophic about how she and Troy will be the school's ultimate power couple, does his best to look sympathetic when she wretches pink onto her bedroom floor.

When the callbacks are posted, Sharpay orders Ryan to “keep an eye” on Bolton and Montez. He takes tailing Troy as an opportunity to get near Zeke, who asks him once or twice what Sharpay’s favorite baked goods are. He has half a mind to tell him all her least favorites—lemon bars, anything with coconut, the matcha tea cookies _Ryan_ loves. Instead, he suggested her favorite snickerdoodles, butterscotch blondies, strawberry tarts. 

It’s after one of these conversations—his darling Zeke furious scribbling down suggestions of what to bake that will impress his sister—that Ryan finds himself wandering into the auditorium during free period. He’s humming “On My Own” and shuffling along the aisle with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t even notice Kelsi and Gabriella at the piano until the former starts playing her slower arrangement of “The Music in Me”. Ryan’s gaze snaps up to the stage; his first instinct is to hide, but what’s he gonna do? Dive into the seats? And then Kelsi looks up. Then his first instinct is to smile at her and give a little wave. 

She looks suspicious but continues playing for Gabriella, who seems to still be trying to grasp the lyrics. Her vocal quality to really good though, and Ryan tells her as much when she finishes singing. 

“Thanks,” she smiles. “My choir instructor used to really lean into us.”

Kelsi looks wary of him. “This is closed rehearsal.”

“Oh,” Ryan nods, pausing on his way up the stairs to the stage. “Sorry, I’ll just,” he gestures vaguely to the wings. He can putter around the dressing rooms feeling sorry for himself. Kelsi nods like she approves.

“Nice seeing you,” Gabriella sounds like she means it. 

Ryan smiles and nods, and makes it all the way onto the stage before a wave of coughing and retching hits him like a truck. 

“Are you okay?” It’s Gabriella’s voice. He’s only vaguely aware of her movements as he doubles over, mouth dumping piles of tiny purple petals into his upturned hands. 

When it subsides, he looks up to find Gabriella stooped near him, offering a glass of water. “Thanks,” he says and stuffs the petals into his pockets. He always feels bad about leaving them onstage. Kelsi strides up to them with a wastebasket. She holds it out for him while he dumps petals and unbloomed flowers into it.

“Wow, you got it bad,” she observes.

Ryan shrugs. “It’ll pass.” It always does. 

“Can I ask you something?” Gabriella furrows her brow. 

“Shoot.” He nods.

“Do the um…” she gestures to her throat. “Do the flowers get in the way of singing? I mean, your lung capacity’s gotta take a hit, right?”

“There’s breathing excersizes you can do,” he explains. “And I do all the choreography for my and Shapay’s numbers-” though she always insists on “improving” them by removing his beloved jazz squares. “-so I can make sure I get a breather every now and then.

“Hm,” she nods.

“Why? You worried about…” he puts a hand on his chest

She chuckles. “Oh, no. I’ve never had hanahaki.”

“You know you’re literally the second person who’s ever said that to me,” Ryan laughs.

“Hi,” Kelsi extends a hand. “I’m number three.” 

He shakes her hand. “Wow, really?” 

She shrugs. “Why’s that so surprising?”

“Uh—well,” Ryan shrugs too. 

“Cause I’m gay?” She shoots him a look and Ryan coughs, only partially to hide his embarrassment. Kelsi laughs.

“What does that have to do with it?” Gabriella asks, her head tilted innocently. 

“Queer kids get hanahaki more often,” Kelsi explains. “Like, statistically.”

“Pining’s kind of our thing,” Ryan says without thinking. Is this the most explicit way he’s ever come out at school? Possibly. Gabriella only nods thoughtfully. 

“Still,” Kelsi says. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone else who’s never had it. You don’t get crushes?”

Gabriella shrugs. “Never really had that many close friends before. No one to get a crush on.”

“You only get crushes on your friends?” Ryan quirks an eyebrow. She looks away, bashful. He back-pedals. “I, uh, wasn’t making fun of you. I just—I donno, I feel like I’m falling in love with a new person every week.” He shrugs. Granted, his feelings for Zeke have stuck around for way longer than usual.  
Gabriella looks at him curiously. “My mom says I’m a romantic.” She nods again. Ryan gets the feeling she spends a lot of time just sitting with things, thinking. “I’ll, uh, let you two get back to rehearsing.” They bid him a friendly goodbye and he decides not to tell Sharpay he ran into them.

*

It’s days later when Gabriella comes to into the band room where he and Sharpay are rehearsing. Sharpay is in the middle of saying something confrontational and smug when Gabriella practically collapses into Ryan’s lap, shaking and dry heaving. He strokes pats her back and tells her to breathe. Ageratum flowers force themselves whole out of her throat. She can barely catch her breath enough to explain what Troy had said, the awful prodding from her new science team “friends”. Ryan helps her drink some water and makes plans to hang Troy Bolton by his thumbs in the trap room.

Distantly, Ryan is aware of Sharpay coughing. If she notices her briar roses are nothing like the ageratum Gabriella is passing, she doesn’t say anything. 

Ryan hears second hand about Troy’s hanahaki: how he’d thrown up whole sweet briars onto the basketball court. Sharpay is ecstatic: Troy had finally gotten over “that Gabriella girl”! And their flowers matched! Clearly, it was destiny! That isn’t how hanahaki works, but Ryan has no energy to explain it. He checks on Gabriella the next day at school, and finds that she isn’t coughing anymore. Ryan wishes he had a balcony for boys to romantically climb in the middle of the night. 

By the end of the year, Ryan has played an understudy for the second time in his life—the first was when he and Sharpay had both been cast as Peter Pan in middle school. Zeke is still leaving prideful pink flower petals in his wake. He brings Sharpay baked goods and Ryan is the one who eats them, which only makes his hyacinths worse. Sharpay does try them eventually, and spends about a week doting on Zeke. Her sweet briars calm down a bit, soothed by distance as summer rolls in. Neither Troy or Gabriella’s flowers come back, and Ryan is happy for them. 

Sharpay's plan to use Lava Springs' junior staffer program to reel in Troy Bolton fails spectacularly. Ryan is a little annoyed; he'd just gotten over his feelings for Zeke, and now he and the rest of his cute basketball friends were going to be crawling all over the place! He gets to spend time with Gabriella, though. He thinks they might actually be friends. She invites him to the staff baseball game, and spends the whole golf cart ride to the baseball diamond asking him about the different meanings to flowers. 

“I never thought about it,” she explained. “When Troy was… coughing for me,” she looks embarrassed to say it. “They were these cute pink and yellow things.”

“Sweet briar roses,” Ryan says. She looks at him quizzically. “Easy pick for you. _Simplicity, sweetness_.” He doesn’t mention _wounded_.

“I don’t think it actually means anything,” Taylor says. “Mine are rhododendrons,” Gabriella’s face lights up. “Stop that—it was one this guy in _ninth grade_ , very short lived, and very not worth the trouble.”

“What color were they?” Ryan asks.

“Yellow or orange, I think—and I looked it up, rhododendrons mean _beware_. That’s a shit flower to have represent your feelings for someone.”

“You’re right, the meanings can be off sometimes. It gets influenced by the way people see you,” Ryan explains, leaning forward on the golf cart’s headrest. “But orange and yellow rhododendrons mean strength and success.”

“Hm,” Taylor smirks. “Strength and success huh?” Ryan nods. 

“That suits you plenty,” Gabriella says. Taylor only laughs. “Ry, what did you say those purple ones were called? Agre—”

“Ageratum,” Ryan says, though he isn’t sure he’s pronouncing it correctly. 

“What’d they mean?” Taylor asks. “Impulse? Pomposity? Unrestrained testosterone?” She gives Gabriella a teasing look and the other girl makes a big show of rolling her eyes. 

“Politeness,” Ryan says plainly. Gabriella tips her head back and laughs. 

Taylor parks the golf cart. As they walk toward the pitcher’s mound, Gabriella asks Ryan what _his_ flowers are. He looks at her and shrugs one shoulder. “I donno.” No one’s ever wanted him enough for to trouble their breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

Ryan thinks Chad Danforth might be flirting with him. He doesn’t know why Chad Danforth would be flirting with him, since he has a girlfriend, but their back and forth about baseball and dancing are just to one side of friendly banter... 

By the sixth inning, Ryan has decided that Chad Danforth probably isn’t flirting with him, since Chad Danforth is straight. 

By the eight inning, Ryan is feeling a tell-tale tickle in the back of his throat. He hopes it will go away, that the flowers won’t be able to take root in his lungs. 

When the game is over, he and Chad shake hands. "I'm not saying I'm gonna dance in your show," Chad's voice is somehow cocky and vulnerable at the same time. "But if I did... what would you have me do?" Ryan smirks despite himself. He’s heaving chrysanthemums into his fist by the time he makes it into the locker room. 

Chad asks if he's alright. Ryan shrugs, “Ah, you know—same shit, different petals.” He clears his throat.

“They’re different every time?” Chad furrows his brow.

“Yeah, they change with the person causing them.” It’s a common enough misconception: lots of people think hanahaki sufferers throw up flowers that relate to _their own_ personality. 

“Hm,” Chad smirks. “They’re not mine are they?” Ryan knows he’s joking—he has to be joking—but he stares wide-eyed anyway. “Seein’ my moves got you all hot and bothered, Evans?” 

Ryan forces himself to laugh. “Speaking of moves—I should get choreographing. You do ballet, right?”

“What?” Chad narrows his eyes.

“Cause I was thinkin,” he does a pas de bouree as he moves toward the door. It’s a simple move: a sideways shuffle beginning and ending in 4th position. “Maybe a couple of,” he plies. 

Chad shakes his head. “No, I don’t do ballet.”

“You’ve got the legs for it. A plie, an arabesque,” He puts his arms out and balances on one leg. “You’ll do great.”

“No, no plie,” Chad is more insistent, almost panicked. 

“Exactly one plie,” Ryan nods. “Got it.”

“No, Ryan!”

Ryan taps his head three times. “One plie and penché, you got it my friend.”

“Ryan!” Chad throws a towel at him. He’s still yelling when Ryan leaps into the air and out the door. He’s not two feet from the entrance before a puff of yellow petals forces him to stop and take a breather. It’s stupid, having a crush on a straight boy, but Ryan’s done it before.

*

The talent show looms near and Ryan coughs chrysanthemums quietly into his fist, avoids eye contact with Chad during rehearsals. Sharpay chases after Troy. Troy’s being kind of an ass to Gabriella, so Ryan can’t bring himself to care. They’re in the midst of finalizing choreography when Taylor corners him in the hallway. She doesn’t mean this interaction to be as terrifying as it is, he’s sure. Taylor is just… an intense person.

“Can a person’s flower change?” She demands, one hand on his shoulder. She isn’t even gripping that hard, and he still feels like she might rip his arm off if he answers incorrectly.

“Uh- yeah, I mean—people grow and change, right? So like…” He shrugs his free shoulder. 

“Oh… okay.” She lets go of his shoulder, eyes darting around like she’s placing this new information on a mental cork board dotted with red string and torn note paper.

“What’s up?” He asks and touches her arm. She looks down at his hand strangely and he withdraws. 

“Chad’s—” she tilts her head from side to side. “They’re making him wear a mask in the kitchen so he doesn’t get flower petals in the food. Yellow roses.”

“Oh,” Ryan nods. “Yellow’s your color, so…” he trails off.

Taylor folds her arms and looks down at the floor. “It doesn’t make sense, does it?” Ryan starts to say something but can’t. “Why would he be pining after me? We're together!” He can only give her a sympathetic look. “And it’s not like people just _get_ hanahaki, right? You have to be seriously head over heels for the person, right?” 

He nods. “Sorry, Taylor.”

She scoffs. “You know, if it _was_ just a little crush, I could deal with it. Shit happens, you know? And maybe I could deal with this too—I could help him through it. But he won’t even tell me who it is. You know what he did when I asked?” Ryan shook his head. “He got that _insufferable_ , cocky look on his face and said,” she put on a voice. “‘This is all for you baby’,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Maybe he’s hoping to just shake it off,” Ryan suggests. “I’m sure he still really likes you.” Truthfully, Ryan doesn’t really ‘get’ their relationship. Chad talks about Taylor like she’s a prize he’s working for—which is fair because Taylor talks about Chad like he’s a prized show dog. He doesn’t say any of that though. He doesn’t get a chance to because Taylor is turning on her heel and walking away.

“I’ll see you around, Ryan. Thanks.”

“Where are you going?” He asks, only half because they have rehearsal soon. 

She turns and looks at him as if he is not very smart. “To break up with Chad. Duh.” She disappears around a corner with a flip of her hair. 

“Okay,” Ryan says to the empty space she left behind. “Good luck.”

Yellow roses. Roses: _romance, endearment, flamboyance_. Yellow: _joy, enthusiasm, brightness_. A surge of chrysanthemums burst from Ryan’s mouth as he contemplates the idea. It can’t be, right? It doesn’t make any sense. 

During rehearsal, Chad is distracted. He keeps missing cues, forgetting steps. Ryan cuts him some slack, tries not to hurl flower petals down his back when he shows him the steps for the fifth or sixth time. After rehearsal, he and Gabriella are supposed to talk about costume options. Chad hangs back as everyone files out of the studio. 

“Can I ask you something?” He asks Ryan, his voice hoarse from petals.

“Uh, well, Gabi and I were supposed to talk about, uh,” Ryan looks at Gabriella, hoping for some back up.

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Gabriella shakes her head. She then completely disregards the fear and panic in Ryan’s eyes and leaves him alone with Chad. 

Ryan looks at him, probably still looking like a deer in the headlights, and Chad has the audacity to _smile_ like his chrysanthemum petals aren’t flitting about in Ryan’s lungs. Of course, Chad doesn’t know that. And he doesn’t half to know that! Just be cool, Ryan, be chill!

“What did you, uh, wanna talk about?” Ryan has never felt less chill in his life. 

“Can you show me the partner thing again?” Chad asks, looking sheepish. “I just feel like—like if I see it one more time I’ll be able to get it.”

“Well, it’ll be easier to just practice with you,” Ryan explains. “Even if we don’t have the music,” he holds his hand out. Chad stares at it for a moment before he steps forward. Ryan tries to think of this as strictly business. Chad just wants to be better at the choreo. He just cares about the show, nothing more nothing less. He takes Chad’s waist and pulls him closer. 

“Wait…” Chad furrows his brow. “Shouldn’t you be the girl? So I can practice?”

Ryan chuckles. “Chad, I hate to tell you this, but neither of us are the girl.” Chad looks away; Ryan doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look bashful. “I’m gonna _lead_ so you can get to know the steps better. Okay?” He steps forward and places a hand on Chad’s waist. 

“That’s really gonna help?” Chad stares at Ryan’s other hand for a moment. 

“It’s easier to pick up on the movements when you’re not thinking about what comes next,” Ryan explains. “Just take my hand, take a breath—” His hand slides into Chad’s hand and the other boy turns away from him abruptly, doubling over as golden rose petals wrench themselves from his throat. Ryan pats his back and waits for the wave of petals to subside. 

“You okay?” He asks. Chad smiles and nods. “I saw Taylor before rehearsal…” 

Chad looks away, clears his throat deliberately. “So how’s it go?” He takes Ryan’s hand again. 

“It’s just three steps repeated,” Ryan says slowly. He guides Chad through the sequence. “Don’t look down at your feet.”

“How am I supposed to know what I’m doing if I don’t look down?” His head is tilted down so his hair is in Ryan’s face. His shampoo smells like pine needles and beeswax and Ryan can feel the chrysanthemums climbing up his windpipe. 

“D’you look at your feet on the court?” His voice is hoarse. 

Chad looks up at him, sheepish. “Yeah, alright.” 

Ryan smiles at him and pulls him close. They move like that, chests nearly touching, through almost the whole sequence before Chad has to pull away from him to cough. Gold petals litter the wood floor and Ryan tries not to look at them. _Unbridled joy_. They couldn’t be for him, right?

Chad scrubs his hands down his face. “This is fuckin’ stupid.”

“You were doing really well!”

“That's not what I m—” he curls into himself again. Ryan runs and grabs him some water. He drinks it slowly, pounds his chest, “I hate this shit.”

Ryan almost wants to laugh. “No one likes having hanahaki—that’s sort of the point.”

“How d'you deal with it all the time?”

“You get used to it I guess.” He worms his hands into his pockets, rocks back on his heels awkwardly. “Besides, I dunno... it's nice?”

“Thought no one liked having hanahaki?” Chad smirk is playful and mischievous. It makes Ryan wheeze.

“I don’t like the coughing or the chest pains... I like... I dunno. I liking people. Even if they're not gonna like me back. It's a nice feeling, to be into someone.”

“Hm." He looks down at his water cup. "No one's ever liked you back?"

“Not that I know of," Ryan shrugs. "I kind of like to think I'm not totally out at school so." Chad furrows his brow. "Hey, I said I like to think that way! Not that that's how it is!" Chad smiles, shakes his head. "Hey, um..." Ryan scratches the back of his neck. "If you wanna talk about, about Taylor... I know Troy's like, super busy with college stuff lately, so if you need somebody to talk to," he shrugs. 

Chad looks at him for a long time. “Get why you wouldn’t wanna be out at school,” he says finally. It isn’t what Ryan’s expecting and he only looks back at Chad. “We’re a bunch of judgmental pricks.” Ryan laughs. Chad is quiet for another long moment. “But at least you being gay would make sense.” He shrugs.

Ryan furrows his brow. “Because I’m in theater?” 

Chad shrugs. He’s looking down again. “Didn’t mean anything by it—not tryna be a jerk.”

“Oh,” Ryan nods. “Trying to be less of a judgmental prick you mean?”

Chad looks up at him and smiles. “Yeah, something like that.”

Ryan feels a wave of petals fluttering up from his lungs and keeps it down for as long as he can. Eventuality he coughs a whole chrysanthemum into his palm.

“Jeeze, are you okay?” He steps forward. "I thought it was just petals.” The concern in his voice melts into curiosity. 

Ryan thinks he should toss the bloom in the trash, but his fingers curl around it protectively instead. "The worse it gets, the more developed the flowers."

"It’s gonna get worse?" Chad's shoulders droop. He tosses his head back and sighs. 

“Until you either confess or move on,” Ryan hears how sad he sounds before he actually processes the feeling. 

“You don’t do that.” It’s not a question. Chad isn’t looking at him.

“I, uh… I move on all the time.” He tries not to sound defensive.

“And then cough up somebody else’s petals the next week?” He looks out the glass doors. People have been passing by, but there isn’t another class in this room for a little while. 

“Once you get hanahaki once or twice, it’s easier and easier to get it again. Even if you’re not really in love.” Ryan explains. “Chad, are you okay?” He steps forward.

“I don’t want this,” he says slowly. “I had a good thing going with Taylor. We hung out, talked. She came to games, I went to her science triathlon things. It wasn’t complicated.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a relationship,” the words are out of Ryan’s mouth before he can catch himself. He winces. “Shit, sorry.”

Chad looks at him. “What about this time?” Ryan looks confused. “Are you in love this time?”

Ryan thinks for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about it. He doesn’t usually think about it. “I donno,” he shakes his head. 

“Me either,” Chad says. “Never really thought about him that way before.”

“Him?” Ryan’s eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead. No fucking way.

Chad chuckles. “Hey, if you can’t be out at school, what’s that mean for someone like me?” 

Ryan stares at him for a moment, opens his mouth to say something and coughs instead. Chad hands him his water cup and he downs the remaining half. 

“Chrysanthemums, right?” Chad asks. Ryan looks at him, pretends to clear his throat. “My mom’s a florist.” He looks contemplative for a moment. “Gabi says you’re really into this shit—you know what the flowers mean and stuff?”

“Yeah, um,” he looks down at the water cup and it hits him that he and Chad have shared a glass. His breath comes out fluttering and crunching. “Chrysanthemums are loyalty. And, uh, yellow usually means passion or joy.” 

Chad hums. “Sounds like a great guy.” He’s closer now, and not looking Ryan in the eye. His gaze seems to travel across his face, down the line of his jaw to his neck. Ryan thinks his eyes linger on his lips for a moment but he has to be imagining it. Right? 

Chad’s gaze is still low when he speaks again. “You know what Taylor said when she broke up with me?” Ryan shakes his head. “She said we were good for each other. Being together meant we didn’t have to worry about liking anyone else. It was simple.”

“That sounds like Taylor,” Ryan nods. 

“I guess I never realized how convenient we were for each other.”

“Nothin’ wrong with convenient,” Ryan means it when he says it.

Chad hums. “I thought that too.”

“But not anymore?” 

Chad’s eyes move across his face again and now he’s _definitely_ looking at Ryan’s lips. Ryan swipes at his mouth, thinking maybe there was an errant flower petal stuck to his face. There’s nothing. Chad’s gaze doesn’t move. 

“I don’t wanna be convenient,” Chad says slowly. “But I don’t wanna be fleeting either.” His eyes flick up and Ryan feels like his gaze is boring him. “This is gonna make me sound like a sap, but I want something like Troy and Gabi have.”

“They’re intense,” Ryan looks down at Chad’s lips this time. 

“They care about each other.” Chad shifts toward him and Ryan feels his eyes widen. “I wanna care about someone.” Ryan wants to be cared about. Just once, wants someone to have _him_ stuck in their throat. “You got it.”

Ryan looks up. “What?”

Chad’s smile is easy and shameless. “

“Oh, I said that out loud.” Ryan expects to feel embarrassed, but instead there’s only warmth in his chest. He barely notices how easy his breath is coming now. 

“Yeah, you did,” Chad grabs onto the collar of Ryan’s polo shirt. “What’re you doing at seven?”

“What?” He repeats dumbly.

“My shift ends at 6:30. What’re you doing at 7:00?” Chad repeats. His smile widens, less smarmy and more… joyous. 

“Ah…” Ryan can’t help but smile back. “It sounds like I’m meeting you at the back door by the kitchen.”

Chad nods, his whole body bouncing with the movement, like he can’t contain himself. He pats Ryan on the shoulder. “See you then.” He jogs out of the studio, leaping up to smack the top of the top of the doorframe as he exited. Ryan could have screamed.


End file.
